


Getting Better

by NeurotropicAgentX



Category: Dragon Ball
Genre: Enemies, Hate Sex, M/M, Technically Not Sparring, Threats, What Happens at the World Tournament Stays at the World Tournament
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-04-21
Updated: 2018-04-21
Packaged: 2019-04-25 17:55:45
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,997
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14383956
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/NeurotropicAgentX/pseuds/NeurotropicAgentX
Summary: I don't think either of them would get disqualified for this.





	Getting Better

**Author's Note:**

> Huge thank you to my editor for all her assistance.

It was good to be out under the open sky. Yamcha felt something inside himself uncoil as he looked up at the stars. The lights that flooded the Champion’s Compound drowned out all but the brightest ones, but even they were familiar enough to soothe the strange mood that had been riding him. He didn’t miss his old life as a bandit. It had been difficult and stressful while still managing to include long stretches of monotony. But at the same time the pressures had been very different and he missed the occasional quiet and satisfied moments when he could look up at the sky without worrying about… anything. Rare moments he’d only had after stealing from other people, but still. 

Yamcha had hoped the late-night walk would clear his head. He hadn’t had the heart to wake Puar, and besides, he’d kind of wanted the solitude. Tomorrow was his big match against Tien, the first fight he was really _worried_ about. He’d seen what Tien was like in the ring. The man was brutal, cruel and seemed to _enjoy_ it. That kind of strength and skill made any damage he did one hundred percent deliberate. Goku prided himself on taking out weaker opponents quickly and mercifully. But then, Goku didn’t have a mean bone in his body. 

It made Yamcha a little uncomfortable, sometimes. He wasn’t some sadistic asshole like Tien or anything, but Yamcha got angry, sometimes. Like when Tien had threatened that guy in the cafeteria earlier tonight. That was probably why Yamcha was feeling so restless right now. He was still ready for _that_ fight. 

The best thing to do would be to hit one of the training gyms and burn off some energy. At this hour he’d be practically guaranteed to have the place to himself and who knew, maybe an extra bit of training could help tip the scales tomorrow.

Yamcha picked one of the smaller gyms. The lights were on, even if everyone had gone home, including all the attendants. He grabbed one of the fresh towels hanging on the rack by the door and made his way toward the row of punching bags. After a moment of hesitation he dropped the towel on the ground beside him and stripped off his shirt. It was just cold enough outside that walking back to his room with a sweaty shirt would have been pretty unpleasant. 

Yamcha went through a couple of perfunctory warm-up stretches before squaring up to one of the punching bags. He made a few light jabs, getting a feel for the heft and swing of the bag. It was heavy and reinforced, clearly designed for high-level fighters. It would probably have taken even Goku a few hours to demolish it. Yamcha started in carefully, going for precision over brute strength. He hadn’t wrapped his hands and was mindful of the fight he’d be engaging in tomorrow.

The rhythm of it was soothing and Yamcha didn’t even hear the door of the gym opening. He distantly registered the sound of heavy footsteps, but it wasn’t until they stopped behind him that Yamcha caught his punching bag and turned around. 

Tien’s lips quirked up in a nasty smile. He had his own towel slung over his shoulder and he was decked out in training clothes. Yamcha stared. What was there to even say? He remembered how close he’d come to straight up attacking Tien in the cafeteria. Only Jackie Chun’s intervention had stopped that confrontation from escalating and getting the both of them disqualified. 

Yamcha realised there was really only one option open to him. Without a word he turned his back to Tien and acted as if his entire focus was being absorbed by the punching bag. He gave the bag a few strikes and radiated _dismissal_ as hard as possible. There was a sharp indrawn breath from behind him and Yamcha smirked where Tien couldn’t see. It looked like the insult had landed.

After a few more heartbeats, Tien’s footsteps started up again. Yamcha caught a glimpse of him out of the corner of his eye. Tien had set up in front of the punching bag _right next to his one_. There was a flash of skin in Yamcha’s peripheral vision when Tien also stripped off his shirt. Yamcha focused hard on the bag in front of him. It made him feel uncomfortable and heated seeing that much of Tien’s bare skin. Envy twisted low in his gut at the sight of all those muscles. As much of an asshole as Tien was, he was _built_.

From the sound of it Tien had started up his own routine. His blows against the punching bag were harder than Yamcha’s, like he didn’t even care about the damage he could do to himself.

Yamcha tried not to let himself be goaded, but found himself hitting his own bag harder in response. He’d wanted to punch Tien right in his stupid smug face for days now. The confrontation in the canteen had only been the latest moment. Chun was right, of course. It wasn’t worth it, not when it would mean instant disqualification. Yamcha’s gaze slid over to Tien, almost reflexively. Tien was looking right back at him, scowling, and the heat in his eyes held Yamcha’s attention. 

Tien stepped around to one side, like he was flanking his punching bag, and delivered a hard mid-kick to it. He stared Yamcha dead in the eye as he did it, still managing to land the strike with perfect accuracy. A mid-kick like that would take an opponent right in the gut if they were around the same height…

Yamcha scowled back and pivoted so he could make his next couple of punches while holding Tien’s gaze. He delivered his strikes at face-level. Right in the middle of that arrogant, irritating… punching bag. Tien smirked at him and suddenly they both moved around their bags, facing each other directly. They fell into a bizarre rhythm without saying a word. They took turns, striking out at their bag or holding back and sometimes even performing the right countermove or block against the empty air. 

Yamcha’s heart thudded in his chest and he found himself watching the play of muscle under Tien’s skin, the enviable sleekness of his attacks. Tien was staring back just as hard, his eyes tracing a path down Yamcha’s body, assessing his moves. Sweat dripped down the both of them.

Yamcha nearly stumbled when Tien finally broke the silence. ‘I might actually have to fight you in the ring tomorrow, instead of just knocking you out in the first few seconds like the rest of the embarrassments.’

Yamcha scowled. ‘You’re just a bully. Facing someone at your own level is definitely going to be good for you.’

Tien grabbed his punching bag as it swung back toward him and stopped it. He picked up his towel and took the time to give himself a quick dry. ‘I said I’d have to _try_ tomorrow. We’re not at the same level,’ he scoffed. 

‘I’m going to wipe that smug look off your face tomorrow,’ Yamcha said quietly. 

The corner of Tien’s mouth quirked up. His half-smile didn’t contain a hint of humour, not when his eyes were carrying that much leashed anger and heat. Tien took a few steps forward until he was practically in Yamcha’s space. ‘Tomorrow I’m going to put you in the hospital,’ he replied, just as quietly.

Yamcha’s mouth went dry. He couldn’t drop Tien’s gaze, couldn’t lose even that much ground of whatever _this_ was. ‘You sadistic freak.’

‘Why are you taking this so personally?’ Tien asked, tilting his head to the side to study Yamcha even more intently. It drew Yamcha’s attention to the arch of his throat. ‘I’ve never done anything to you, have I? I’m pretty sure I’d have remembered meeting someone like you.’

Yamcha told himself he didn’t know what that meant, even as Tien’s gaze slid down again. Even though he could almost feel the weight of those eyes against his skin. ‘Yeah, it _is_ personal,’ Yamcha admitted. ‘And not because of what you've done, but because of what you _are_.’

Tien’s eyes flicked back up to Yamcha’s face. ‘And what am I?’ he asked, giving Yamcha a lazy smile.

‘Like I said, you’re a bully. Someone who doesn’t care about the people you hurt as long as it gets you what you want. Someone who stands apart from everyone else and _sneers_ like they’re the ones with the problem, when really the problem is _you_.’

‘What the hell would you know?’ Tien demanded. For the first time since he’d walked in he looked off-balance.

Yamcha smiled. ‘Because I used to be that. I was a bandit, I stole from people, I threatened them and didn’t give a damn.’

Tien’s eyes widened for a moment before he narrowed them. ‘Really now?’

‘Yeah. I got better.’

‘You got weak,’ Tien spat back, clearly agitated. 

‘I’m still strong enough to face someone like you.’

‘You’re really not and _I’m_ going to prove it tomorrow. But you’re right about one thing. I guess it is… personal. Why did you stop?’ Tien’s voice switched gears when he asked that question and there was something more than just curiosity in his tone.

‘What?’

‘Why did you stop?’ Tien repeated. ‘Why did you give up that kind of freedom? The freedom to do what you want, take what you want and ignore the consequences?’ He took another step forward and Yamcha found himself taking a step back. 

‘Because the only things that really matter are the things that are given freely. Like friendship and support and affection.’

Tien barked a laugh. ‘I’m not exactly sure what naïve child taught you that, but I have a pretty good guess. Nothing’s given for free. You’re either strong and smart enough to get what you want or you’re dead.’ He took another step forward.

Yamcha stepped back again. It wasn’t because he was scared of a bully like Tien, but he was disturbed by the stuff he was saying. Not having consequences or any ties beyond Puar and being able to do whatever he wanted had been good. For a while. And if Yamcha didn’t take that step back then maybe he’d do something really stupid like reaching out to grab at Tien and pull him closer.

‘That’s not true. There are strong people out there who do the right thing and protect others from people like you,’ Yamcha said firmly. Then he found he couldn’t take another step back because the wall of the gym was right behind him. Tien stepped forward again, close enough that Yamcha could feel the heat radiating off him.

‘Strong or not, your little friend is a murderer and from the sound of things you’re not so different either. Maybe more delusional these days, but not any _better_.’

‘Then maybe you should back off,’ Yamcha said. His focus was split and he was losing the thread of the argument. Tien was standing so close, his chest completely bare and lightly flushed from his earlier exertion. Yamcha’s heart was still pounding hard from his own training. That was definitely why his mouth had gone dry and he could hear his own pulse in his ears.

‘Or maybe _you_ should stop deluding yourself and actually go for what you want,’ Tien said, smirking. ‘It’s the dead of night and we’re alone. Besides, it’s not as if I’d risk telling anyone.’

Yamcha sucked in a quick breath. He held Tien’s steady gaze, his eyes only flicking down to look at that inviting smirk. For a moment he teetered on the edge of actually attacking. Tien wanted that fight as much as Yamcha did and he wouldn’t tell the organisers if they ended up grappling right here. But it also occurred to him that there was more than one to wipe the annoying expression off Tien’s face. Yamcha grabbed Tien by the belt and drew him in. He smashed his lips against that smug little smirk before biting down on Tien’s bottom lip. 

Tien’s hands came up and clamped down on his shoulders, like he wasn’t quite sure if he should be holding on or pushing Yamcha back. Not that there was anywhere to go, with the gym wall pressing into his shoulderblades. When Tien drew back he was panting and the look on his face was gratifying. 

Tien just stared at Yamcha for a moment before he spoke. ‘For a second there I was sure you were going to punch me in the face. This is better,’ he added decisively.

‘For a second there I almost did. You’re a real piece of work.’

‘And you’re just like me.’ There was something just a little too intense, a little too desperate, in Tien’s voice, but he leaned forward and bit at Yamcha’s mouth again, preventing any reply. 

Yamcha let go of Tien’s belt to slide his hands up his waist, blunt nails dragging up to Tien’s ribcage. It earned him a harsh noise, the sound muffled by their kiss. In retaliation, Tien seized a handful of Yamcha’s hair and tried to use it to change the angle of their kiss. It wasn’t the smartest move. Yamcha smirked against Tien’s lips and pulled forward before throwing his head back hard against the gym wall behind him. Tien’s hand got caught between the wall and the back of Yamcha’s skull and he let go with a yelp. Losing a few strands of hair was absolutely worth it, especially when Tien drew back far enough to throw him an ugly look.

Yamcha grinned, showing his teeth, and brought one of his hands around to run down Tien’s chest and stomach. He felt Tien’s abdominals twitch beneath his touch. No matter how much a fighter bulked up, it was still a vulnerable area and Yamcha wasn’t surprised when Tien wrapped a hand around his wrist and pinned it up beside his head. The grip was unfairly strong and it made something twist in the pit of Yamcha’s stomach. But almost any grip was breakable by pitting the strength of your wrist against an opponent’s thumb. Yamcha was just about to do that when Tien pushed a thigh between his legs. 

This time Yamcha’s head thudded back against the gym wall involuntarily. The sudden pressure against his cock obliterated every thought in his head. His hips moved in frantic jerks as he desperately sought more friction. Tien used his distraction to bite down on the juncture of Yamcha’s neck and shoulder.

Yamcha’s free hand grabbed at the back of Tien’s neck to hold him there. ‘Don’t you dare stop,’ Yamcha managed to pant. 

Tien made an odd noise against his neck. A second later Yamcha felt a hot pressure against his hip and realised Tien was bucking against _him_. Yamcha ran his nails down Tien’s back, wishing they were sharper. He grabbed Tien’s ass, pulled him closer, and helped set the rhythm of that feverish grind of bodies. 

They were overwhelmingly close. Their skin was sweat-slicked and heat poured off the both of them. Pleasure was coiling tight in Yamcha’s body. The friction against his cock was just a little too dry, his clothes just a little too rough, and it was making his head swim. Then Tien switched spots on Yamcha’s neck, biting down just high enough that his gi wouldn’t cover it. At the same time he shoved himself harder against Yamcha’s hip.

Yamcha gave a shout as he came and for the briefest moment he was glad to have his wrist pinned by Tien, glad of the extra support from that hard thigh to help keep him up. Tien lifted his head, drawing back just far enough to stare at Yamcha’s face. Yamcha looked right back and managed to force his hand between their bodies so he could grab Tien’s cock through his clothes and squeeze. Tien was eerily silent as he came, his jaw clenched to stop any hint of noise. His whole body shuddered, however, and the reaction was enough to make Yamcha’s dick twitch even though there was no way he’d be getting hard again so soon. 

They kept staring at each other as their breathing evened out. Eventually Tien pushed back from the wall and went to grab his discarded towel for a half-hearted attempt to clean himself off. ‘I think this is going to make me enjoy hurting you tomorrow even more,’ Tien said with his back to Yamcha.

Yamcha ran a hand through his sweaty hair and went to retrieve his own towel. He didn’t want to go back to threats. Tien was still a hateful jerk, but all that talk about being so similar and that the only way to live was by taking from others didn’t sit easy with Yamcha. Getting some physical distance from Tien also made it easier to think and Yamcha realised that the things he’d been saying cut both ways. ‘I’m not like you,’ Yamcha said. 

Tien’s head whipped around and he sneered. ‘Keep telling yourself that,’ he said.

Yamcha kept his cool. ‘I’m really not, not anymore. But you could be like me.’ He held out his hand. ‘Good luck out there tomorrow.’

Tien closed the distance between them again and stared down at Yamcha’s hand like it personally offended him. Then his eyes flicked back up to Yamcha’s face. For a moment Yamcha was almost certain he’d shake his hand or at least grab him again, but his expression of incredulity shifted back into disdain. ‘I don’t need luck,’ he spat. ‘You will, though, if you’re even going to _survive_ what I’ll do to you tomorrow.’ 

With that he turned around and stalked out of the gym, only stopping long enough to pick up his discarded shirt. Yamcha let out a long breath when the door slammed shut. Tomorrow would be an interesting fight, to say the least.


End file.
